fiancée looking on, that face of yours could change a man’s mind. Go along, now.”
Maddy could barely contain her excitement. She was finally coming face to face with her nemesis. Quickly rolling down her sleeves, she dashed up the stairs, heading for the green baize door that led to the butler’s pantry and on to the dining room, with Mrs. Crozier chasing after her holding a fresh apron. “And tuck that hair under your cap again. Or you’ll have to cut it all off.”
There was no way in hell that was going to happen
, Maddy thought mutinously, taking a deep breath. A moment later she found herself pushed through the door into the narrow butler’s pantry, and then on out into the dining room.
Her eyes first went to Wilf, who was on his knees trying to scoop up broken dishes onto the heavy silver tray. He looked up at her and rose, pulling his ill-fitting uniform down with affronted dignity, as if she was the one who’d made the mess. “Clean that up, girl,” he said dismissively.
She didn’t hesitate, dropping to her knees and picking up the shattered pieces of Limoges. It had been beautiful china, and she wanted to weep at Wilf’s clumsiness as shard after shard of destroyed beauty was laid to rest on the silver tray with appropriate gravity.
“Beg pardon, captain,” he was saying. “The girl is new and she obviously didn’t polish the tray correctly. The handles were slippery.”
Maddy’s back stiffened in outrage, her mouth open to protest, but she shut it again, keeping her head down. Maybe, just maybe if she took all the abuse the Croziers felt like dishing out they’d stop trying to sabotage her. She’d always assumed servants stood up for each other, though Bryony had mentioned dealing with arguments and conflict even in the harmonious Russell households.
“Fire the girl.” The elderly, pompous voice, the one she’d heard earlier, came from the dinner table, and she looked up in horror,certain she was finished before she’d even begun if the captain himself was firing her.
But the man who’d spoken had been to her left, and she glanced up to find he was sitting on one side, a choleric-looking gentleman who’d probably never been to sea in his life. Beside him was a beautiful young woman, with hair so blond it was almost white, pale skin, and blue eyes that hadn’t even bothered to glance at the troublesome servants. The man she’d spied through the window was at the foot of the table, so he was clearly not the captain, and her eyes swung immediately to the far end, for her first glance at her elderly employer.
She almost dropped the shard of glass she was holding, and she clutched it instinctively, barely feeling it bite into her skin.
She knew that face, even though he was talking with the beautiful woman beside him, not even looking down at the mess his servants had made. Knew that mouth, had felt that mouth on hers what seemed like a lifetime ago, but in fact had only been a few hours ago. He still hadn’t bothered with a proper neckcloth, but he had something draped around his neck as a nod to propriety, and his dark, curling hair had been pushed back, probably another sop to decency, though it only exposed the barbaric gold earring. He had a strong profile—a long nose, flashing eyes, his dark brows slanting upward and his cheekbones high and sharp. She already knew too much about that wicked mouth of his.
He must have felt her eyes on him, and he turned, but she was fast enough to duck her head and finish cleaning up the broken dishes. There was blood dripping onto the tray, and she realized she’d cut herself more deeply than she thought. With the last bit of food scooped onto the tray, she rose, lifting the wretchedly heavy thing with her, and it was all she could do not to stagger, her legs and arms ridiculously weak. Keeping her face glued to the tray, she backed out of the room, while Wilf was continuing on with his convoluted tale of how it had been all her fault,
Maddy could barely contain her excitement. She was finally coming face to face with her nemesis. Quickly rolling down her sleeves, she dashed up the stairs, heading for the green baize door that led to the butler’s pantry and on to the dining room, with Mrs. Crozier chasing after her holding a fresh apron. “And tuck that hair under your cap again. Or you’ll have to cut it all off.”
There was no way in hell that was going to happen
, Maddy thought mutinously, taking a deep breath. A moment later she found herself pushed through the door into the narrow butler’s pantry, and then on out into the dining room.
Her eyes first went to Wilf, who was on his knees trying to scoop up broken dishes onto the heavy silver tray. He looked up at her and rose, pulling his ill-fitting uniform down with affronted dignity, as if she was the one who’d made the mess. “Clean that up, girl,” he said dismissively.
She didn’t hesitate, dropping to her knees and picking up the shattered pieces of Limoges. It had been beautiful china, and she wanted to weep at Wilf’s clumsiness as shard after shard of destroyed beauty was laid to rest on the silver tray with appropriate gravity.
“Beg pardon, captain,” he was saying. “The girl is new and she obviously didn’t polish the tray correctly. The handles were slippery.”
Maddy’s back stiffened in outrage, her mouth open to protest, but she shut it again, keeping her head down. Maybe, just maybe if she took all the abuse the Croziers felt like dishing out they’d stop trying to sabotage her. She’d always assumed servants stood up for each other, though Bryony had mentioned dealing with arguments and conflict even in the harmonious Russell households.
“Fire the girl.” The elderly, pompous voice, the one she’d heard earlier, came from the dinner table, and she looked up in horror,certain she was finished before she’d even begun if the captain himself was firing her.
But the man who’d spoken had been to her left, and she glanced up to find he was sitting on one side, a choleric-looking gentleman who’d probably never been to sea in his life. Beside him was a beautiful young woman, with hair so blond it was almost white, pale skin, and blue eyes that hadn’t even bothered to glance at the troublesome servants. The man she’d spied through the window was at the foot of the table, so he was clearly not the captain, and her eyes swung immediately to the far end, for her first glance at her elderly employer.
She almost dropped the shard of glass she was holding, and she clutched it instinctively, barely feeling it bite into her skin.
She knew that face, even though he was talking with the beautiful woman beside him, not even looking down at the mess his servants had made. Knew that mouth, had felt that mouth on hers what seemed like a lifetime ago, but in fact had only been a few hours ago. He still hadn’t bothered with a proper neckcloth, but he had something draped around his neck as a nod to propriety, and his dark, curling hair had been pushed back, probably another sop to decency, though it only exposed the barbaric gold earring. He had a strong profile—a long nose, flashing eyes, his dark brows slanting upward and his cheekbones high and sharp. She already knew too much about that wicked mouth of his.
He must have felt her eyes on him, and he turned, but she was fast enough to duck her head and finish cleaning up the broken dishes. There was blood dripping onto the tray, and she realized she’d cut herself more deeply than she thought. With the last bit of food scooped onto the tray, she rose, lifting the wretchedly heavy thing with her, and it was all she could do not to stagger, her legs and arms ridiculously weak. Keeping her face glued to the tray, she backed out of the room, while Wilf was continuing on with his convoluted tale of how it had been all her fault,
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